“It would make things deuced awkward at family gatherings,” Dylan agreed. “You’re the one who knows all about proper protocol. Does a lord invite his demirep mother-in-law to the christenings of the children? Or not?”
Ian was in no frame of mind for his brother’s sardonic wit. “Deuce take it, Dylan, can’t you be serious for once?” He walked back over to the fireplace and resumed pacing, thinking out loud as he did so. “Once she is married, her husband will handle her and the matter of her mother as he sees fit. But until then, her relationship with Francesca is my problem. I don’t wish to part the girl from her mother by force, but it seems I must.”
“Not the most diplomatic thing to do.”
“No, but given her defiance, I may not have a choice. Every moment she continues to live with her mother damages her further and makes my task harder. If I am to fulfill my duty, I must first see that she is accepted into good society, and that means she cannot remain in Francesca’s household.”
“So what are you going to do with her?”
“That’s the crux of it. Taking on the job of chaperoning a young woman is a huge responsibility. Given the girl’s past actions, it will take a great deal of persuasion for some matron to take it on. If the girl gets into trouble, her chaperone will come under criticism as well.”
“You’ll find someone, I’m sure.”
“I daresay, but I don’t have much time. And the girl is not in any frame of mind to cooperate.”
“Do you blame her?”
“I expected her to face facts and be sensible. Instead, she was impertinent and demanding and rebellious by turns. It astonished me that a young lady of breeding would behave in such a way.”
“Is it really so surprising, given how autocratic and high-handed you were about it all?”
“I was not autocratic. Nor high-handed.” When he saw Dylan raise an eyebrow in disbelief, Ian went on, “As I told you, time is short, and I put the truth of her situation to her in a straightforward fashion. I got nothing but impudence and resentment leveled at me in return. At twenty-two years of age, she ought to have developed some seriousness of mind, but no. The girl has an unbelievably reckless disregard for her virtue, her position, her duty, and her future.” He took another turn across the hearthrug. “Why?” he muttered to himself. “Why do the Italians always have to be such a problem?”
“It’s not that she’s Italian,” Dylan said, sounding amused. “It’s the fact that she’s a woman that’s got under your skin.”
Those words brought Ian to an abrupt halt beside the fireplace, and the image of his card being tucked into the cleft of Miss Valenti’s bodice flashed through his mind. He took another swallow of port. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“From what you described, you discussed this situation with her in your terms. International relations, political ramifications, duty, honor.”
“And?”
“What does she care? From her point of view, here is some man she has never met, laying down the law on her father’s behalf about her life and her future, talking to her as if she were an inconvenient problem to be dispensed with as quickly as possible. No wonder she was resentful. Any woman would be.”
That was nothing but the truth, and Ian knew it. He looked at his younger brother, summoning his most dignified air. “It seems I made a slight diplomatic miscalculation.”
“To say the least. What were you thinking?”
He hadn’t been thinking, at least not about anything but getting this petty little problem off his plate. “I will not repeat my mistake, I assure you. When I meet with that young woman again, I intend to apply the first rule of diplomacy.”
“Which is?”
“Get what I want, but make her think she’s getting what she wants.”
“Perfectly sound. Just remember you are not negotiating a trade agreement with Portugal.” Dylan took a swallow of brandy. “If you want my advice—”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t ever forget she’s a woman.”
The memory of Lucia Valenti’s generous curves and cherry-red mouth were still quite vivid in Ian’s mind. Forget she was a woman? He downed the last of his port. Not bloody likely.
The following morning, Lucia was not surprised to receive a note from Sir Ian, stating that he would call upon her that afternoon, that it would pain him to cause her any inconvenience, but expressing the fervent hope, as he put it, that she would be available to meet with him. A very diplomatic note, but dropped in the midst of all the polite phrases was the casual mention of a report he was writing to her father about her situation.
Lucia tapped the note against her palm, thinking over her own next move. She would cooperate with her father’s plans, but on her own terms, and that meant finding a man who loved her. Love could not be forced, so her only choice was to take her mother’s advice, stay with respectable people, go to parties, meet young men, and enjoy herself. Along the way, perhaps love would find her. One thing she was not going to do was stop seeing her mother. She intended to visit Mamma whenever she wished. That meant finding a chaperone she could get around. Sir Ian just had to see the situation her way.
He might be dictatorial, haughty, and cold-hearted, but he was still a man. Sweet as honey, she reminded herself that afternoon as his name was announced and he came into the drawing room. “Excellency,” she greeted with a curtsy much more deferential than her last one. She sat down and indicated for him to sit opposite her.
“Miss Valenti,” he said as he took the offered chair, “I fear that we got off to rather a bad start yesterday, and I would very much like to remedy that.”
“As would I.” A little flattery, she thought, a little bit of acting like the misguided but contrite girl, with a dash of making him feel important thrown into the mix, and she’d be in control of this whole situation. She smiled at him. “Sir Ian, I feel the same way. I cannot think what came over me yesterday. Surely you and I can find ways to compromise.”
“I am certain we can.” He paused, then said, “Perhaps we should begin with a discussion of where you are going to live for the remainder of the season. Have you given that any thought?”
Perfect, she thought. “Oh, yes. Upon reflection, I know that you were right in much of what you said. I realize my mother’s house is not an appropriate place for me to be.” She spread her hands wide in a gesture that asked for understanding. “I love my mother, and I have had little opportunity to visit with her over the years. I have a strong resistance to leaving her.”
He leaned forward, eager to accept her point of view. “Of course. Your affection for your mother and your reluctance to be parted from her are understandable. You have a woman’s tender heart.”
Lucia pressed her hand to that tender heart, well aware of what such a gesture accentuated. After all, in the getting of her way, a woman had to use whatever weapons she had as effectively as possible. When Sir Ian’s lashes lowered a fraction, she hoped he was appreciating two of her very best weapons.
“It pains me to leave Mamma and move in with strangers,” she went on, “but I recognize that I must. The first step, then, is to determine with whom I might stay. I am sure you move in the finest circles of society. What is your opinion?”
He returned his gaze to her face. “There are several excellent possibilities. In our new spirit of compromise, perhaps I should outline them for you, and you choose which sounds most appealing?”
“That is so considerate of you.” She gave him a look of gratitude. “Perhaps you might begin with your own preference?”
“It is your preference that matters, Miss Valenti.”
The thought crossed her mind that if they kept up all this mutual consideration much longer, both of them would be nauseous. “You are too kind, Sir Ian, but guide me, if you would.”
“The Countess of Snowden is one possibility you might consider. Her background is impeccable, and any young lady she chaperones would be accepted everywhere.”
“What is she like?”
“A most sweet lady, and a most proper one. She speaks very slowly, and she’s a bit deaf, but after all, she is nearly seventy. She doesn’t attend many events in the evenings, but if you play piquet, she will adore you. Her home is several miles outside of London, but after I have chosen several suitable young men for you to meet, they can call upon Lady Snowden and yourself without too much trouble. Though she lives a bit far from any amusements, she has a fine barouche and would be happy to take you out in her carriage once or twice a week. I would be most amenable to leaving you in her hands.”
“She sounds a most suitable chaperone,” Lucia answered, thinking just the opposite. Her age was a good thing, but if the woman lived outside the city, there would be no way to get out and see Mamma without enormous risk. No, Lucia didn’t think she’d be staying with Lady Snowden.
“Tell me about the others you have considered,” she suggested. “After all, I must make a judicious choice.”
“Of course. Lady Deane is another possibility. The baroness is a most hearty and invigorating woman. She has a strong constitution and believes in long walks in the fresh air every morning at sunrise. Exercise, she says, is most beneficial and wholesome. She’s a rather stern taskmaster, but in my opinion, that develops one’s character.”
“I am sure my character is in need of some strengthening,” Lucia said with a straight face. “My past behavior, I admit, has been rather…impulsive.”
“Lady Deane would make certain you made no social faux pas, so you may put your mind at ease on that score. She would watch over you most carefully.”
“I have no doubt. And I do adore waking at dawn.” She paused, opened her eyes very wide, and bit her lip, hoping she looked like the weak and helpless female. “But I am hesitant about the taking of exercise. After all, it is men who should be the strong ones.”
She tilted her head and let her gaze roam over the wide shoulders and chest of the man sitting before her, and she did not need to feign an appreciation for his physique. She hated to admit it, but his body was quite splendid. “Men of strength and power,” she went on in a voice like butter, “men such as you, Sir Ian, are so appealing to the feminine…heart.”
He glanced down again, shifted in his chair, and looked away. Lucia smiled, knowing that right now her heart was the last thing he was thinking about.
She heaved a sigh and shook her head as if coming out of an admiring reverie. “But I digress. Forgive me. Have you any other suggestions?”
He seemed to come out of rather a daze himself, and it took him a moment to answer. “There’s Lady Monforth, of course. That would be a perfect situation for you. The marchioness is a most proper chaperone, and her daughter, Sarah, is only a few years older than you, so you would have a companion. Their London address is in the midst of Mayfair. Most fashionable.”
And probably walking distance from her mother’s house. Lucia felt a glimmer of relief. “That sounds most promising. What is the daughter like?”
“Lady Sarah is the loveliest young lady of my acquaintance,” he answered, male admiration obvious in the sudden warmth of his voice. “A stunning beauty. Golden hair, deep blue eyes, and a perfect, milk-white complexion. The epitome of young English womanhood. I admire her greatly, but then, most men do.”
Lucia repressed the urge to make gagging sounds.
“She is always surrounded by admirers,” Sir Ian continued. “Through her, many suitable young men would have the opportunity to meet you. She isn’t the most intelligent of companions, perhaps,” he added with an indulgent smile, “but I am certain the two of you would be able to find things to talk about. Young ladies discuss all manner of things that we men do not comprehend. Fashions in sleeves and hair ribbon bows and such.”
Lucia began to wonder how a man so dense had ever become such a widely respected diplomat. Did he really think she could be friends with a woman who was both beautiful and stupid? They should despise each other. “Are there any other choices?”
“I don’t believe so…” He frowned, considering the matter.
Lucia waited, hoping he named someone, anyone, who sounded remotely in keeping with her needs for enjoyment and independence.
“There’s my brother, I suppose,” he said with doubt. “He and his wife live in Portman Square, which is right in the heart of things. And they are very good friends with the Duke and Duchess of Tremore. That’s a valuable connection. But…no.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t even think of letting you stay there. My brother is outrageous, and as for his wife, well, I hardly think she would be an appropriate chaperone. She caused quite the scandal herself when she was a girl.”
“She did?” Lucia’s spirits began to rise. “What did she do? Tell me.”
Sir Ian’s face took on an expression of heavy disapproval. “She ran off to the Continent with some French painter when she was seventeen. She’d known the man a week. A week, mind you. And he didn’t even marry her until two years later.”
To Lucia’s way of thinking, this woman sounded like a definite possibility. “What happened?”
“After her husband died, Grace came back to England, but her reputation was in ruins. She became my brother’s mistress. Needless to say, that didn’t help her regain her respectability. My brother, Dylan, was quite the rake in his day, I’m ashamed to admit.”
“Dylan?” Astonished, Lucia stared at him, unable to imagine this man with a brother whose reputation for outrageous behavior was so well-known. “Your brother is Dylan Moore, the composer?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m sure you can understand that staying with them would not be a good situation for you.”
Oh, yes it would. She liked outrageous people. And Grace Moore, having done some scandalous things herself, would surely be a permissive chaperone. Lucia could go where she pleased, do what she wanted, and visit her mother any time she liked. She decided it was time for another layer of buttering up.
Lucia leaned forward in her chair, all wide-eyed and earnest. “But, Sir Ian, you are a member of their family. Given your impeccable reputation and influential position, your brother and his wife must therefore be considered respectable people.”
“They are now.” He smoothed his cravat, looking pleased with himself. “After I managed to salvage Grace’s reputation.”
“You did?” She gave him her most admiring gaze. “So I am not the first young lady to be saved by you? I am not at all surprised, given your diplomatic skills.”
“It was not all due to me,” he answered with an obvious attempt at modesty. “The Duchess of Tremore and her sister-in-law, Lady Hammond, were most helpful to my efforts. And, of course, Dylan has settled down to married life quite well. But still—” He hesitated, gray eyes narrowing on her with sternness. “Can I rely upon you to exercise the utmost self-restraint while in my brother’s house?”
Lucia folded her hands in her lap, meek as a lamb. “I know I have made mistakes, but I am sure that if I had interesting companions, I would be very wise.”
“I daresay, but I’m not certain the people you would meet through my brother’s acquaintance would be of good character.”
“But you would never choose a husband for me who was not of good character,” she said with dulcet sweetness. “And if your brother and his wife are friends with a duke, that should provide many opportunities for me to meet people of the utmost breeding and suitability, thereby fortifying my reputation. I would so much like to stay with them. With your permission, of course.”
Sir Ian sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and considered the matter. “It would be more amusing for you there, I suppose,” he said with reluctance. “And I did give you your choice.” Another long pause, then he nodded. “All right, Portman Square it is.”
She gave a sigh of relief and satisfaction. “Thank you, Sir Ian. This shall be a new life for me, and it is so reassuring to know that I can rely upon you to advise me.”
He smiled, looking as buttered u
p as a man could get. “No thanks are necessary, Miss Valenti. It is my pleasure to guide you in any way I can.”
Lucia smiled back at him, looking grateful, feeling like a cat swimming in cream. Perhaps it was a terrible flaw in her character, but she did love getting her way.
Chapter 4
Ian loved getting his way. There was nothing more exhilarating than a diplomatic negotiation concluded with success. He now had a second negotiation to undertake, and there was no predicting how it would turn out. His brother could be as contrary as springtime weather.
After leaving Francesca’s house, he called at Portman Square, but he found that Dylan was out. Grace, however, was at home.
“Ian!” With a wide, delighted smile, his sister-in-law rose and came forward as he walked into the drawing room, her hands outstretched in greeting. “Dylan told me you were in London. I am so sorry I was out when you came to call last evening.”
“I regret that as well. I so seldom get to see you.” He took her hands and kissed her cheeks with warm affection. Grace was slender, blond, beautiful, and one of the most generous-hearted people Ian had ever met. She was certainly the best thing that had ever happened to his brother. She was also sensible, a quality Ian admired. Most people had no sense whatsoever.
“I would have written ahead that I was coming home,” he went on as she sat down and he took the chair opposite her, “but there was no time to do so. This diplomatic mission cropped up rather suddenly.”
“Would you care for tea?” When he nodded, she reached for the bellpull on the wall behind the chair where she sat, and a footman stepped into the drawing room. Grace ordered refreshments, and a few minutes later, she was pouring out a fragrant cup of China tea for each of them.
“So, are you allowed to discuss this diplomatic mission?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, cup and saucer in her hands. “Or is it a secret one this time?”
Ian also leaned back with his tea. “Quite the contrary. I wish to tell you all about it. In fact, my dear Grace, to accomplish this particular assignment, I am in need of your assistance.”
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